Crouch and a Horrible Question
by PigletandPooh
Summary: He had always thought that answers brought closure. And in the aftermath of her death, in the wake of her murder, he had felt that sentiment was reaffirmed. Until a stranger with a neat moustache arrives at his door to bring answers. And the answers only lead to more questions.


"Mr Black?"

Sirius rubbed tiredly at his brow; still exhausted from lack of sleep and still slightly too hung-over for this crap. He wasn't even sure what time it was. Or better yet, what day. Time seemed to have melded together in one impossibly large chunk of being drunk and being asleep. And even when he was asleep, he wasn't really. Sleep was just another name for nightmares. He knew it couldn't have been over a week at least. They still hadn't… the funeral hadn't happened yet.

"Yeah?"

He looked up from his slouch on the sofa as James led in an official looking man in a shiny pinstriped suit. The man had a straight moustache and perfectly parted hair, as well as the most polished shoes Sirius had ever seen on someone outside of a cartoon. He looked weirdly out of place in the Potter's homely sitting room; the rustic cushions and woven rugs and jumbled photographs at complete odds with this man's clean cut image. He extended a formal hand, smiling sadly down at the Black boy he had heard so much about.

"My name is Bartemis Crouch, Mr Black. I'm here investigating the McKinnon murder."

Sirius straightened up slightly, eyeing the newcomer in confusion. He suddenly became acutely aware that his own hair was in dire need of a cut (and probably a wash) and he hadn't shaved in two days, and he really couldn't remember a time when he hadn't been wearing these pyjamas in the last week. Bartemis Crouch was _really_ high up in the Auror department. If this was the man he thought it was, then he was next in line for Head Auror. Why on earth was he digging around Marlene's death? Was it because Henry had been in the Auror office? With the rate Auror's were dropping these days however, he very much doubted the Ministry could afford to send the top dogs for every Junior killed.

He accepted the outstretched hand cautiously as James sat down beside them, shooting encouraging glances in Sirius's direction. Something about James's cautious posture and dubious stares had Sirius thinking that he hadn't been in favour of making their introductions. In fact, James looked uneasy with the whole interaction. Sirius narrowed his eyes in James's direction, getting the distinct feeling that James had postponed Crouch's visit for as long as he could, and if he could invent an excuse for Crouch to leave right now, he would have no hesitation in escorting him out.

"Firstly I would like to offer my condolences. The McKinnons were obviously, very close to the Auror programme and have given more than anyone should be asked to give. I want to give you my assurance that this tragedy has our full attention. Your girlfriend was by all accounts, a lovely woman."

Lily walked slowly into the room, nudging the door from the kitchen open with her hip and balancing a shaky tray of tea in her hands. She kept her eyes focused on her cargo; downcast, so that no one would see how red rimmed they were. She'd been crying again that morning. Every time she'd dusted herself off and promised that that would be the last breakdown, she knew it was a lie. She could be perfectly fine and then tiniest thing would set her off. Sometimes it was just the fact that she _was_ fine; that she'd managed to forget for just those brief seconds of reprieve and then guilt would consume her. How could she have forgotten? It had only been a week.

Sirius sighed, staring at the cup of tea Lily had slipped into his cold hands and not liking how flimsy that word sounded. _Girlfriend_. A girlfriend was something sixteen year olds had. Marlene wasn't some crush. He had loved her. Maybe one day he would have grown up enough to marry her. Merlin knows that if he could turn back time he would do it in a heartbeat. At the same time, weak though the word sounded; it killed him that he couldn't even apply _that_ to her. They hadn't been together when it happened.

"She wasn't my girlfriend. But it's good to hear that it's being prioritised. I suppose that's why they sent you?"

Mr Crouch nodded tactfully at the pale boy, sitting sullen on the couch. He had all the likeness of his cousin; one Bellatrix Black. The same haughty arrogance, the same cheekbones and dark eyes. Yet there was something undefinably broken in this man. Something distinctly tragic about the way his eyes bore into Mr Crouch's; burning and freezing all at once. Coughing slightly, he reached for the leather suitcase he had placed carefully by the foot of his seat, gratefully accepting the tea from Potter's wife.

"I wasn't sent here, Mr Black. Bernard McKinnon was a close personal friend and colleague of mine when he was alive and I would not have entrusted his children's murder to anyone else. I'm afraid I need to ask you some questions about the night Ms McKinnon was killed."

Potter sat up straighter, pushing his glasses up on his nose and looking much more alert. He leaned slightly in front of Sirius, pressing in closer to Crouch in his alarm. "Are you saying he's a suspect?"

"Merlin, no. Of course not. However there are some delicate questions that we feel Mr Black here would be in a position to help us answer."

He swung the briefcase smartly onto his lap, clicking it open as he glanced over at this Sirius Black again. The boy was staring back at him mutely; seemingly inclined to help if he could, but not particularly eager to hear whatever Crouch had to ask. That was to be expected, he supposed. If it were his wife, or his son, he doubted he'd be keen either. From Potter's protests and evasiveness all week, he'd been expecting uproar, outrage- violence even. But this boy seemed open to his questions, anxious to see justice done, if slightly irritated at the pace at which it was being achieved.

Sirius watched the official, rooting meticulously through his organised little briefcase and wondered if he was one of the Aurors from the photo of Marlene as a child, interrupting the her father's dinner party. He was very good at playing detached and objective, but the slight clench of his jaw when he had mentioned Marlene's father told a different story. He looked about the right age to have come through the Academy with her dad. He had reached the appropriate standing within the department to have risen through it with him together. They probably went on raids together. Fought side by side. Watched friends die. Maybe this Crouch was her father's best friend. Her father's James.

That idea comforted him. If James had lost his entire family; Sirius would never rest until they were avenged. Nothing would keep him from getting justice for James, and he knew that the boy beside him would do likewise if the situations were reversed.

If this was the case, then Sirius approved of Crouch's appointment. He would do what he could to help.

"Mr Black, do you recognise this photo?"

Couch slipped a worn and slightly crinkled photo across the Potter's coffee table as Sirius sat up and peered down at it. He recognised it with a jolt, his stomach dropping to the floor. A younger Marlene blushed furiously at the camera, her arms wrapped around his waist as she turned and hid herself in his shoulder. He tore his eyes away from her and stared at the 16 year old version of himself, grinning cockily at the camera and stroking her back as he whispered in her ear.

He couldn't even remember what he'd been saying. Couching slightly to clear his throat, he blinked a few times before answering.

"Yeah. We were in fifth year- it- it was at James's party. Summertime. Why?"

It was also their first kiss. But he saw no reason to add that.

Crouch pursed his lips, reaching for another photo and passing it solemnly to Sirius. "And this one?"

Marlene was dressed in a fancy cocktail dress, her hair styled poker straight around her face as she smiled happily at the camera, Sirius's hand again at her waist as he smiled beside her. Only his smile was forced, his posture too stiff and his suit looking uncomfortable.

He gritted his teeth with a shrug. "Some Black family dinner."

Crouch nodded. "Can you remember who took these photos?"

Sirius blinked. "Yeah… um, Lily? Did you take this one?"

He pointed to the photo from James's party all those summers ago.

She shrugged, peering down at it dubiously. "I don't think I had her camera. Pete took a photo of me and Mary that night though. I have it somewhere…"

Sirius nodded, remembering it now. "Yeah it was Peter. And this one was…"

Regulus.

Regulus had taken that photo.

He narrowed his gaze at Crouch; at his practised indifferent expression and polite interest, like he wasn't analysing everything he said and dissecting it. What had this to do with anything? What was he getting at?

"I'm sorry- why are you asking me this?"

Crouch sighed, retrieving the photos and filing them neatly away in a small brown envelope. "Mr Black, when you and Mrs Potter entered the crime scene, did you disturb anything in the room?"

Sirius glanced up at Lily, her blank face as clueless as his as to what direction this interrogation was taking. He shook his head, equally nonplussed. He'd been a bit distracted by Marlene's dead body obviously.

"No? What about you Mrs Potter?"

He turned calculating eyes on Lily as she shifted uncomfortably from her perch on the arm of the sofa.

"Well… Yeah, actually. I took a photo from her mirror. I didn't think… I didn't think it would matter."

She looked decidedly guilty, crossing her arms across her chest loosely.

Crouch nodded, smiling understandingly up at her. "Mrs Potter, is there any chance we could see the photo?"

Lily nodded, rising quickly and avoiding the stares of the two boys on the sofa. She disappeared into her bedroom, reappearing again with a worn photo album in her hands. She opened it as she walked, picking out a loose photo that was nestled between the sheets of the album and handing it wordlessly to Crouch. He peered eagerly down it, searching for the missing link, anything that would tie this photo to the two in front of him.

The photo was obviously from some time ago; the deceased would be placed at maybe thirteen. She was in Hogsmeade, judging from the background, with a younger Mrs Potter wrapped around her shoulders as they stuck their tongues out at the camera. The present Mrs Potter was watching his reaction carefully, worrying about what she had done wrong.

"Can you please explain what is happening?" Sirius leaned forward expectantly. He didn't care if he sounded rude. He was allowed to. He had lost everything and it was this man's job to provide him with some sense of closure, not to take a walk down memory lane and peruse their photos over tea.

"Mrs Potter, did you look over the other photographs in the room before choosing this one?"

Lily shrugged, glancing in concern at Sirius as he sank back into the sofa with a frustrated huff as Crouch again ignored his questions. "Yeah. The visible ones- I didn't go rummaging if that's what you mean."

He nodded. "Did you notice anything unusual about them? Any figures… absent?"

Sirius rolled his eyes with a scowl. "If you're trying to imply that I wasn't in a single one then don't worry about hurting my feelings. I know I wasn't. Like I said, we weren't together anymore. She probably burned everything I had ever touched."

Lily frowned at Crouch, sensing that that _was_ what he was implying, but perhaps there was more to it. He hesitated, meeting her questioning eyes briefly. And from her guarded expression he was filled with certainty that she had a vague idea where this was heading. It was to her that he directed his next question; his intuition telling him that she was the source to tap.

"Were you aware of a box that Ms McKinnon kept? A shoe box, rectangular and plain; just-"

Sirius raised his eyebrows in disbelief. Any idiot who'd even glanced in at Marlene's room would have known better than to ask that question. There was one thing she had more of than dresses, and that was shoes and shoeboxes. "You're going to have to be more specific. A shoebox? _Really_? Marlene had _thousands_."

But the redhead beside him didn't share his derision. James felt her shoulders stiffen under the supportive arm he'd slung around her. He glanced sideways as her mouth fell open marginally; surprise etched across her face.

"Under her bed? A… A red shoebox?" Lily finished the sentence Sirius had interrupted, looking down at Crouch in incredulity as he nodded back quickly, switching his focus to her. Both of them ignored Sirius's confused stares.

Marlene had kept it? She had kept it all this time? Why would she keep it and not tell Lily? She told her she'd thrown it out. That she was serious about it this time. Why even lie? Lily wouldn't have judged. She understood it. She had always understood Marlene's inability to let go. Well, maybe not in the early days, or after that first explosive break-up, but since then she had been nothing but understanding.

Mr Crouch's eyes lit up. "Exactly. You are aware of what it contained?"

She nodded mutely, her eyes slipping subtly to where Sirius sat before flicking quickly back to Crouch's. "Yeah. Yeah but… she'd told me she'd gotten rid of it. Months ago."

"Wait. What box?"

Sirius stared angrily around the group, irritated at not being included. Mr Crouch reached for his briefcase again, opening it slowly and drawing a worn red cardboard box from it's depths; placing it gingerly on the table. He motioned for Sirius to open it.

Lily breathed in deeply, her eyes watering as she watched him reach for it unsteadily. His own stormy grey eyes were darting between Crouch's impassive gaze and the innocuous looking box in front of him, waiting for something to happen, or the lid to pop off of it's own accord. But it lay still, waiting. The colour was slightly faded; paled considerably from even the last time Lily had seen it, three months ago. It was a weird feeling, seeing it here, in her sitting room, watching Sirius reaching for it and knowing that were she alive, Marlene would be screaming at her to stop this and dying of mortification.

But she wasn't alive.

And she must have held onto all of these things because she wasn't ready to let go, wasn't ready to say she'd moved on and left them behind. Left _him_ behind. She supposed the box really did belong to Sirius now, and at any rate, she couldn't imagine who else would want it. But a part of her still yearned to snatch it out of his grasp and hold onto it's secrets. If only to protect Sirius. Years from now, she could tell him of it's existence, when he was strong enough to handle it. Maybe it would bring him some peace, some closure. But somehow she didn't think a week after Marls's death was the time to tell him that she might have never stopped loving him, and that the future he'd imagined snatched away from them had been entirely possible- _probable_ even. She didn't know if this was the wisest thing. Certainly they shouldn't be _watching_ him rooting through his entire past with Marlene. It was cruel to force this on him with no warning.

"Sirius-wait-"

Her words died as he flipped it open and froze, his hands hovering unsteadily over the folded parchment and worn photos and a slim silver bracelet lying innocently on top. He knew what all of this was and… he couldn't believe she'd still had it. Cautiously, he picked up a delicate slip of parchment and nearly choked on his shock and grief. The words were so familiar. Like they'd been written only yesterday. He could practically smell the brewing potions and feel the steam against his cheek, hear the chatter of students, the drone of Slughorn- feel his own nerves as he waited for a reply.

Padfoot wants you to hurry up so he can begin planning his outfit. What do you say McKinnon?

Yours curiously,

James and Co

How did she even still have that? It was… it must be over five years ago- maybe six? And there it was, those stupid notes, still crumpled from where James had chucked it at her head. He reached quickly for another, and his breathing stopped when he recognised her writing. His fingers traced the words as if he was in a dream; not really believing that her warm hand had ever passed over the parchment. That Marlene was _long gone_. She'd been free then, and unencumbered by the loss of her parents, the war- _him_. And she'd kept the notes. It had meant enough to her even then, that she'd held onto them. He didn't know what that made him feel.

We'll be there. Inform your curious friend that if he chucks another piece of paper at my head, I will encourage every half-wit that knows one end of a broom from the other to join us in attendance. He can have a delightful evening satisfying his curiosity by personally meeting and trialling every first and second year in our house.

Good luck by the way. You'll be great, I know it.

Marlene

His eyes lingered over the last line, drinking it in; wishing that he could go back and relieve the moment his eyes had scanned her words for the first time. Anything to escape the hell he was living in now, without her. Wordlessly, he passed both notes to James, who sat silently by his side; wanting to know but not wanting to press. He accepted them hesitantly, blinking away tears as he read. He remembered that day. It seemed like a different life now. A life where Sirius spent his time plotting to get Marlene and they were only concerned with Quidditch and their silly pranks and the unattainable Lily Evans. She read over his shoulder and he squeezed her hand as tears slipped down her nose.

Marlene,

Meet me at the one-eyed witch at 11 o'clock if you please.

Yours expectantly

Sirius.

P.S. Dress warmly.

Sirius didn't pass along that last one, holding it in his hands and lowering it to his side. He couldn't look at it too long but he couldn't let it go. He was half afraid that his longing to go back would drive him mad. There was so much he could have done better, but that had been one night he wouldn't have changed a thing about. That night had been one of the greatest of his life. It had been just him and Marlene. It was theirs and theirs alone. He didn't want to share it with James or Lily.

Crouch coughed pointedly as Sirius flicked through the photos; him and Marlene at Lily's wedding; one of them by the lake as James doused Lily in water in the background; one of her sitting against his knees in the common room; some of them pre- Quidditch matches where he was all kitted out and she was smiling at his side; some from James's parties- it was all there.

"Mr Black. is there anyone apart from you and Ms McKinnon that would take an interest in this material?"

Sirius blinked, looking up from his trance. Was he asking if Marlene was seeing someone else? If Sirius was?

"What? What do you mean?"

Barty sighed. "The room in which the victim was found was relatively undisturbed but for a few items that were knocked over, presumably in the struggle. However after an intense magical examination of the room, it was found that this box was opened using magic prior to the arrival of the Aurors on-scene."

He watched their reactions carefully. The all seemed equally baffled, staring back at him with blank, uncomprehending faces.

"So… Marlene was looking through all this before… before she died?" Sirius hated the idea. It tore apart his insides. Why would he come to tell them that? He dropped the photos in his hands quickly; feeling slightly ill. That she'd been thinking of him, that she hadn't thrown any of this away… She still loved him. And he'd been too much of an idiot to see it. Too busy wallowing in his own self-pity, in his own self-loathing to do _anything_ right by her. They could have had more time, if he'd just manned up and told her how sorry he was and how he would never stop wanting her.

How he'd never stop missing her.

Crouch shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid not. The box had been forced open magically. Ms McKinnon would have known the command to make it open without force. Furthermore, the box was opened approximately an hour after her estimated time of death."

"So… someone came looking for this box specifically? They had to know her?"

James sounded faint at the idea that someone they knew could have done this. Because that was what Crouch was implying, right? That someone who knew about the box must have done it. His stomach lurched as he remembered Lily was the one to identify it. What if Crouch suspected her? He couldn't, surely not. You just had to look at her to know she hadn't. Maybe her honesty would help her. What if he thought Sirius was just pretending not to know? After all, he was the one in all the photos and letters- who else would care about all that stuff? James squirmed uneasily. This was ridiculous. No one they knew would do this. They weren't friends with people who disregarded their loyalty to the people they cared about so easily.

"Not necessarily. They didn't have to know of the box's existence; just of the contents existence. And even then they didn't have to be sure. If they'd walked into the room and say… accio'd a photo of Sirius Black, the box would have come forth. Then it would just be a matter of opening it."

Sirius stared at the box in disbelief. "Is that what you think happened?"

Crouch pinned observant eyes on the eldest Black. "You never did tell me who took this second picture."

Sirius didn't reply for a beat. "I can't remember."

He nodded shrewdly. "Well do try and remember, Mr Black. Because both of these photos contained matching unidentifiable finger prints dated from an hour after the victim's death. It could well be that one of these was the specific photo the suspect was looking for. And who better to know of it's existence than the person who took it?"

Sirius nodded back, feeling so ill that he didn't trust himself to speak. If Crouch was right, if that… if that was all true…

No.

Regulus was an idiot but he was not a killer. And he wouldn't do this to Sirius, not having seen all of this crap, not knowing what this girl was to him.

But he hadn't seen it, Sirius reminded himself. This was opened an hour _after_ she'd been killed.

No.

It just couldn't be.

Something about the last pair of eyes she ever saw being the same shape and colour of his own made him feel distinctly dirty. Like it was a part of him that had done it. And what if it was? His own blood, his own _brother_ … Regulus had met Marlene. He found it hard to believe that he wouldn't have placed the present day Marlene with the girl he'd met five years ago in his mother's dining room. That photo was taken the very first time they'd met. And one of the very last times Sirius had ever called 12 Grimmauld Place home.

Why wasn't he speaking up? Why wasn't he leaning forward and announcing that "Oh yeah, it was Regulus that took that pic. Very talented photographer he used to be, before he took up Muggle hunting for sport."

But his mouth stayed shut.


End file.
